Off The Hook
by MadaleineWinchester
Summary: It was supposed to be her ticket to freedom... Instead, she finds herself stranded on an island and in a whole lot of trouble when her emotions take a toll on her, especially when she comes face to face with a fugitive from her past. This is how 'Lost' actually panned out. Slightly AU. Includes two OCs. [Jack/OC & Sawyer/OC]
1. Pilot

**My first _Lost_ fanfiction, and I'm pretty excited. I started watching the series about a month ago and let me tell you, I absolutely fell in love with it! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy my first shot at this and please let me know what you think in the reviews section! **

**This story will include an OC I have made up, and just like the other passengers, she's got her own special backstory. This story does include some romance but don't expect it to be one pairing only and also don't expect only 'butterflies and rainbows' throughout. By the way, I envision my OC as Astrid Berges-Frisbey!**

 ** _Disclaimer:_ You know the drill... _Lost_ unfortunately doesn't belong to me and neither does its caharacters, but any OCs and unfamiliar storylines you may come across are made up entirely by me. **

* * *

"Sorry, sorry, don't mind me," I feebly apologized, giving anyone I pushed past an unconvincing and rather shaky smile. I was so agitated and uncomfortable that I completely disregarded the stewardesses' fretful looks shot my way. I wasn't sure if that was due to my hurried actions or because my outfit was terribly assembled in comparison to everyone else. My military styled jacket was crinkled at the ends and my t-shirt hadn't been washed in days. Nonetheless, I simply continued bustling my way down the plane aisle, apologizing yet again for either bumping into someone or briskly brushing past.

I eventually found much needed comfort in a seat relatively far from the plane's main entrance. Sat by the window, I took a peek outside and hoped to God - if such divinity existed, I thought, considering I was anything but religious - not to see _him_ hounding after the plane. Luckily though, all the passengers stomping their way up the airstair did not look like him and certainly did not seem eager to find something, or in my case, _someone_. Some looked fairly relaxed, anchoring kids on both sides and smiling sweetly at them, probably off on holiday. Others looked a little disgruntled, like something was on their mind. _If only they knew what was on mine..._

"I'm guessing you like the seats next to the windows?" an unfamiliar voice asked. My heart began to beat extremely fast for a moment, but my anixety lessened once I realized a rather friendly, freshly-shaven face was looking down at me. The impeccably suited gentleman sat down two seats away from me, leaving an empty one between us two.

At first, I didn't quite comprehend his remark. However, realization hit me when I noticed that my seat, specifically identified in bold lettering on my ticket, was located in the tail section of the plane and not where I was currently seated. I had gotten so preoccupied with getting away and making sure ' _he'_ didn't get his hands on me, I didn't even realize my silly mistake. I started to slowly get up, but the guy stopped me from leaving.

"No, no, it's fine by me," he said, seeming genuine. I relaxed a little and slopped back down into my seat. "Jack."

I turned to look at him, his hand stretched out for me to clearly shake. Finding his kindness slightly suspicious, I simply nodded and introduced myself too. However, he didn't seem to take the rejection there to heart. "I'm Stacey. Sorry about the seat thing. Um, we can definitely swap seats throughout the flight if you want."

He let out a quick, breathy laugh. "No, it's fine, really. I just hope you're not the snoring type." I smirked at his joke, feeling myself ease up a bit. Everything that had happened earlier at the terminal seemed to have completely faded as the flight attendants came marching down the aisles, verifying whether all the seatbelts had been buckled correctly. In no time, we were up in the air and everything returned to normal.

About halfway through the boring flight, I was abruptly awoken from my nap (which I wasn't even aware I had taken) to see Jack and a flight attendant eyeing me up. "Miss, would you like a drink?" the pixie-cut haired woman asked me.

Momentarily, my gaze drifted towards Jack, who was now pouring himself some alcohol from a small, red-capped bottle. I was sure that was definitely not supposed to be happening on a flight but I figured I really needed something strong in my system. And if Mr Suit & Tie had the privelege to a swig of alcohol, then so did I. "Yeah, I'll have what he's having."

"Well, I guess it wont hurt to break the FAA regulations just one more time today," she quipped in hushed tones, glancing at Jack too. Clearly they had had an interesting conversation before I was awakened from my slumber. The fresh-faced lady handed me a similar bottle before innocently dragging her cart down the aisle.

Without hesitating, I unscrewed the cap and chugged down as much of the liquid in one go as I could. The alcohol danced at the back of my throat, releasing much needed pleasurable heat and tingles throughout my body like a firework display on the 4th of July. I hadn't drank alochol in a long time, but when I did, it was a rollercoaster. I also hadn't realized that Jack had been staring at me the whole time like he had just witnessed a hyena devouring a carcass in a matter of seconds.

"I guess I was pretty thirsty?" I said as more of a question than anything else, attempting to explain my ravenous drinking. He seemed to have accepted my answer and took a sip of his own drink. I stuffed the bottle into my trouser pocket and leaned my head against the window. I figured since a nap made things go by faster, I'd close my eyes one more time until the plane had finally touched down in L.A. But before I did slip out of consciousness, I randomly asked Jack, "I don't really snore, do I?"

He smirked at me and replied, "Maybe, at least not as much as the guy in front of us."

Moments later, a bit of turbulence shook me out of my sleepy state. I looked around, thinking I'd find answers in passenger's overwrought expressions. The only thing I did get was an added amount of anxiety on top of the worry and fear I was already feeling. "This is normal," Jack told me, acting very relaxed. He was grabbing the arm rest of his seat and pushing up against his backrest. I honestly wanted to laugh at how paradoxal that was, but I was far too concentrated on the planes violent shakes to speak.

"My husband keeps reminding me that planes want to be in the air," a fellow passenger seated close to Jack stated to us both, but it was clear she was just as nervous as I was.

"Well, he sounds like a very smart man," Jack added.

"What if sometimes they don't?" I suddenly blurted. The nervousness was evident in my quaking voice.

Jack looked as if he was going to console me, but his actions were impeded by the plane's sudden lurch. Passengers flew out of their seats and slammed against the plane's roof like mere ragdolls. I screamed non-stop until I was plunged into a black abyss which I surely hoped wasn't hell, which by the way, was _definitely_ where I deserved to be.

* * *

 _"You look horrible," my boss muttered, noticing my strange, guarded behaviour and dishevelled looks. I ignored him and continued scrubbing the greasy plates in the sink. My mind was so clouded with thoughts, one of the plates slipped out of my grasp and collided with the floor, shattering into millions of little pellets._

 _"Shít!" I seethed. I threw my hair net off in exasperation and stared down at the mess I had just made._

 _"Hey, hey!" Mr Fernandez, who was the human personification of Mexico, came scurrying towards me, placing his caloused hand on my arm. His thick moustache twitched as he gazed questioningly at me, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead due to the kitchen's sultry atmoshpere. "You, Miss Garner, are completely out of it today! What the hecks wrong with my girl, huh?"_

 _I shook my head, turning away from him once my eyes began to sting with tears I really did not want shed in the workplace. I breathed in deeply and muttered, "It's nothing, okay, Mr Fernandez? I'll pay for the plate." I grabbed a nearby dustpan and began sweeping the shattered pieces of ceramic sprinkled across the floor._

 _"What did he do this time?" Mr Fernandez asked, examining me closely, as if he was expecting a reaction from me, however subtle. He was an extremely attentive man, always had been. Behind his serious demeanor as the boss of a bustling Mexican restaurant in the city of NY, he had a soft side for his employees. Over the years, he'd turned into my confidant, whom I could speak to about anything more comfortably than I ever could and would with my older brother._

 _"He... Stripped me of everything. Everything!"_


	2. Pilot 2

**Just curious to know what people think about OC stories, if anyone is willing to share their opinion? OC stories in this fandom are surprisingly hard to find and many go by unnoticed... I think it might be because this fandom isn't very active anymore as it used to, which is unfortunate. But hey-ho, I still am enjoying writing this story.**

 **Also, thanks for the review, mysterious guest (mlo). May I add that some events/scenes that unfolded in the original episodes may be altered in my story, so don't freak out. I know things might look a bit boring now but please stay tuned, I have so many ideas!**

* * *

When I began to stir, I honestly thought it was all a huge, mean joke. I even patted down my own body, just so that I could _feel_ I was genuinely alive. Miraculously, I was fine, other than the stream of crimson coming from a laceration in my forehead, it trailing down along the curvatures of my face and dripping onto my clothes. The blood had began to form unpleasant, maroon-coloured patches on my jacket, so I discarded it completely.

I might not have cracked a bone, but my joints were killing me. So making my way through the evergreen was absolutely atrocious, but I pleaded to my muscles and bones to hang on in there until I reached the source of all the commotion I could hear nearby.

Before I could though, an odd rustling coming from somewhere behind froze me in my tracks. I waited patiently for the rustling to stop, just so that I could tell myself it was nothing to fear about, just the product of my overactive imagination or due to a concussion I may have gotten. Instead of the noise decreasing in volume or disappearing altogether, out of the swamp of bamboo and vine came Jack hurtling in the same direction I was. Needless to say, I was just as surprised to see him as he was to see me.

"St... Stacey?" he stuttered, attempting to catch his breath. Jack approached me with wide strides and instantly had my arms under his strong grip. "Are you okay?" The screams in the distance suddenly intensified tenfold, nabbing both of our attention.

"Jack? I would ask the same question, but I still haven't figured out if this is real." I glanced at the huge blood patch on his once clean, perfectly-ironed dress shirt and cringed.

"I think I can help you with that," Jack said, refering to the injury on my forehead. But instead of replying, a surge of unwanted memories in my mind came back to haunt me.

"Stacey? _Stacey?_ " I hadn't realized Jack had removed his grip around me and began once again moving into the direction of all the chaos.

"Uh, yeah. I'll be right behind you," I replied rather absently.

* * *

 _"I think I can help you with that," my older brother, Brady, chirped, taking the handful of letters I had in my hand and taking them all to himself. He sat down on our miniscule excuse for a kitchen table and began going through them._

 _I watched him closely as he ripped through the enevelopes, dragged out the letters and piled them to the side. Initially, the pile resembled the mountain of laundry we had sitting idle in the middle of our living room, but it then tragically morphed more into something like mount Everest. All of those papers were bills and nothing else. Nothing nice like a letter from our mother or father. Typical._

 _Brady glimpsed at me from underneath the letter he was reading and grinned. "Why you looking so worried, sis? Finally, we can pay all the bills off this month with the money you and I collected. No big deal." I winced at the pile as he began making coffee for himself. Bringing his mug to the table, Brady noticed my distant looks and his expression went from sweet to sour in a matter of seconds. "Right?"_

 _I gulped, feeling too much pressure to stay any second longer in that kitchen. I couldn't tell him yet, not now. But then I thought: 'When, Stacey? When are you going to own up about what actually happened and admit you're a weakling?'.The question lingered in my mind as I flounced out of the room, hearing Brady's aggravated yells after me._

* * *

Shortly after, Jack and I eventually came across the long stretch of beach where most of the bloodied survivors had landed. Many - without a single clue what to do - hollered in dispair, running in circles like headless chickens. Any others that weren't screaming were either still too stupefied to believe they'd lived through such a calamity... or they were already dead. The stench of human flesh burning began polluting the air, a putrid smell I'd never quite be able to describe.

Jack wasn't going to wait around though; he was the first to dart to those most in need, attempting to calm them down or stop them from falling into the hands of death, which was the case of the African-American woman who'd been seated close to Jack. He was desperately attempting CPR on her, a younger looking man also hunched beside Jack. I, on the otherhand, was acting a little like the cadavers hanging from the seats in the wreckage; motionless. I was absolutely clueless as what to do. I wanted to help someone, yet it was like my brain was short-circuiting and refused to let me move. I just stared blankly at everyone and everything and there was nothing I could do about it.

I guess I still hadn't wrapped my head around the fact that I was _alive_. Noticing the tail section of the plane was no where to be found, a chill went down my spine at the thought that I would have potentially been dead had it not been for my mishap back at the airport.

"Are ya' gonna just stand there or what?" a shaggy haired redneck drawled around an unlit cigarette, disregarding the chaotic scenes unfolding before us. He dug into his trouser pocket, evidently looking for a lighter, but he looked up at me when he revealed a pair of empty hands. "Happen to have a lighter, _sweet-cheeks_?"

I frowned at the cheap nickname he was giving me but also at his strangely relaxed demeanor. "You're sick." The sound of metal creaking immediately grabbed my attention towards two individuals lying directly underneath a large slab of fuselage. I plodded into their direction as quick as I could.

"I'll take that as a no then, shall I?" the redneck hollered bitterly while I was still in earshot.

"Come on, help her up!" I begged the chubby male sitting beside the heavily-pregnant woman. He was quick on his feet, although he wobbled and struggled to get up with all the weight he was carrying. Before the wing collided with the sand below, he and I had sucessfully moved the woman to a safe spot.

I landed on the sand with a thud. "Thank you..."

"Hurley," he added, noticing my hesitation.

"Hurley. I'm Stacey."

He glanced at the piece of wing that was now resting on the sand. "Dude... If you hadn't come help me, we'd be mashed potato right now."

I chuckled but noticed Claire's uneasy expression, her hand gently cradling her swollen stomach. Before I could ask her if she was okay, Jack beat me to it. "You guys stay with her, okay?" he said in a calm and authoritarian fashion.

Hurley nodded without hesitation. "I'm not going anywhere."

And once again, Jack darted off without another word, albeit this time I curiously followed his trajectory to a random, lonely suitcase sitting on the sand. He rummaged desperately through it and marched off with a small rectangular box in his hand once he was finished. I muttered an ' _I'll be back_ ' to the two, but I doubted they had heard what I said over their conversation. I followed Jack to a more secluded part of the beach, which raised alarm bells. Most of the passengers were concentrated on the beach, still stunned and fighting for their lives, but yet this guy seemed calm and collected enough to go through people's luggage and wander off. Sounded a bit like someone I knew...

"What's that in your hand?" I asked suspiciously once I'd catched up to him. Clearly, Jack wasn't expecting anybody to trail after him, if his confused expression was anything to go by. But he showed me what he had been carrying to reveal a small, compact sewing kit. Still, my suspicions wouldn't wear off. "I don't think this is the time to play seamstress."

He shook his head, shedding the bloodied dress shirt he had on and throwing it to the side, revealing a tattoo on his bicep and chiselled physique. "Are you squeamish by any chance? Don't like the sight of blood?"

Dubiously, I replied, "I don't mind it. Why you ask?"

"Good," he said, pointing to the injury on his back, the same one that had stained his shirt with a deep red. "I'll help you with that cut you got on your forehead and then you'll help me stitch this up."

"Wait, with this sewing kit? Are you out of your _mind_?"

He laughed, looking off into the water. "Unfortunately, no. Look, I'd do it myself, I'm a doctor, but I can't reach it." I grimaced at the sharp needle he extracted from the little kit. Instinctively, I reached out for my forehead still spilling out some blood. "Don't worry, no needles for you. Just don't touch it," said Jack automatically, "you dont want any nasty infections. Let me clean it up for you."

Jack, now crouched on the sand, ushered me towards him with a hand gesture. Hesitantly, I walked over to his spot and positioned myself next to him. "Well, _doctor_ , I just wonder what medical equipment you're going to pull out of the hat now."

* * *

 **NOTE: I am not in any way attempting to replace Kate. Please read the next few chapters so you can see it for yourselves!**


	3. Kate's Her Name

As Jack nutured my cut with much caution, I couldn't help but notice how very close his bare chest was to my face, which honestly made me feel slightly uneasy. To distract myself, I began to play with the sand around me. "Ok, this part should sting a bit," he warned, pouring some alcohol into my wound and seeming completely oblivious to the awkwardness. I hissed angrily at the pain.

"Okay, now hold this," Jack started, removing his black tie from his discarded dress shirt and handing it to me, "tightly against the wound. It should stop the bleeding in a few minutes." I nodded and did as told.

He then began preparing the needle for the little 'surgery' I had to go through, threading it with some black thread. He poured the rest of the alcohol onto the needle to disinfect it. He sighed at the empty bottle in frustration.

"Looking for this?" I threw him the bottle I had fortunately kept in my trouser pocket. He caught it in one hand and grinned.

"I thought you were thirsty," he jested.

"Yeah, well, I guess the thirst just _vanished_ the moment you looked at me like I was an alcoholic," I quipped back.

"Your wound should be fine now. Let me take a quick look," Jack said as I released the pressure I was holding against my forehead. Carefully, he inspected it, gently grabbing my chin to tilt my head from one side to the other. From what I could tell, it had stopped oozing out blood. "You're fine, now. Think you can help me with this?" Jack gestured towards his own injury.

"I don't know..." I answered honestly. "What about the pain? Are you not scared?" I took the needle from his hand and just the thought of its sharp edge piercing through Jack's skin without any pain killers and anesthetics around made me... Wince.

At my question, Jack seemed to have entered another dimension, as if remembering past incidents. "Well, fear is sort of an odd thing."

I nodded my head, realizing Jack wasn't going to speak further on the subject. As I positioned myself directly behind him, ready to pour the alcohol into his wound, a distinct rustling from the evergeen stopped me in my tracks. Jack and I averted our gaze to the source of the sound, only to find a fairly young, freckled woman step out from the bushes, her left hand caressing her right wrist. The woman looked surprised to see us, and I couldn't tell if it was because she didn't expect to find anybody else, or if it was because of the way Jack was almost bare with me sitting behind him, a miniscule needle in hand and sewing kit lying to the side.

Strangely though, her face seemed fairly familiar to me, albeit I was sure we'd never crossed paths before. I couldn't remember seeing her in the plane (or in the airport, for that matter), so trying to figure out why this supposed stranger struck me as familiar left me absolutely baffled.

"Uh, what... What's going on?" the woman stumbled over her words, seeming as if she'd lost her memory.

It was the moment she opened her mouth and I heard her voice I realized why this woman wasn't so ordinary after all. I knew who she was, but I wasn't sure if she knew who _I_ was. All I knew was that I dropped the needle and quickly staggered back up onto my feet. "Hey, Jack, I need to do something on the beach," I muttered to Jack.

"Wait, Stacey," Jack hollered from behind me.

"She'll sew you up real good, I just really need to do something," I told him, eventually turning away from the two and heading back to where the others were.

* * *

 _"Dan?" I yelled up the stairs, awaiting a response. I didn't get any. Not a single peep to indicate somebody was home. I began to worry as I treaded my way up the staircase, wondering if Danny had over slept and was still in a deep sleep, which wasn't exactly typical of him. "Danny?" I called again, this time more fervently._

 _I pushed the door to our bedroom, expecting to find a large bulge underneath the bed covers and a gentle, light snoring. Instead, I was confronted with a neatly done bed and a small post-it note on his pillow. I frowned. Our closet doors were flung open and looked almost completely empty, apart form a few pieces of clothing belonging to me dotted here and there across the railing. Any of Danny's clothing usually found in the closet had vanished. Begin to feel the need to vomit, I rummaged through his underwear drawer: empty. Then to the sock drawer: empty._

 _"No," I said absently, running towards the note that had been left behind, hoping this was all some practical joke and that we are actually just moving out. Or better, we were going on vacation._

 _But no._

 _The note, written in shaky handwriting, said:_

 ** _Stace._**

 ** _I'm sorry. I was going to tell you. I swear. I've done this more times than I can count to girls like you. But you were different, I wanted to be with you. Wanted to have a family, the normal shít! But if I didnt do as he said, he threatened to kill me. You have to understand, I didn't mean for this to happen. He doesn't know I've left you this note, don't tell anyone, okay? Please. Just get out of there as soon as you can. _**

**_I hope one day you can forgive me._**

 ** _From, Dan._**

 _The front side of the note had been filled up completely with writing. I flipped it over and found more writing. Five words: **I really did love you.**_

 _I completely broke down._

* * *

Many hours after all the commotion, I found myself digging my feet into the sand relatively close to the shore, staring aimlessly at the ocean as the waves came crashing in, tide after tide. The starry night sky above me added a beautiful, white shimmer over the black water, but when it hit me that I wasn't in L.A and I was stranded on a beach with complete strangers, I sighed.

"Hungry?" Hurley asked out of no where, a bunch of ready-made meals salvaged from the wreckage stuffed in his arms like they were a baby.

"Thanks," I said, grabbing onto a random meal and offering him a sincere smile.

"Cool."

I was picking at the plastic when I heard a thud on the sand beside me. Warily, I looked to the side to find Jack with his legs in his arms. The fire's orangey, warm glow cast ghastly shadows over his face, making him look scarily rugged and outlining the bags under his eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Hey," was all he said, offering me a weak smile.

I glanced at the new, fresh shirt he had on and noticed no blood patch around his wound. "She patched you up good. Told you," I said, successfully ripping away the plastic from my meal. I'd never really liked plane food, I'd always thought it tasted and looked like plastic, but my stomach's loud rumbling suggested otherwise.

"Yeah, she did." He scrutinized me as I dug into my food. "She was just as scared as you."

I stopped halfway through a mouthful of food. I swallowed it in one big gulp. "Oh, really? How did you make her sew you up then?"

"Remember what I said about fear being an odd thing?" I nodded my head. "Well, I told her about this... thing I used to do. Count to five, and then the fear just goes away. Surprisingly, it helped me through a lot. And I guess it worked for Kate. You should try it too, Stacey," he suggested warmly.

 _So Kate's her name, I thought._ "That would never work with me. When I'm scared, I freeze up."

He chuckled and nodded his head. "Okay, look. Everybody's around the fire, you coming?"

"Sure thing, Doc." I smiled softly, watching him lightly jog back to the group huddled around the fire.

* * *

 **Thoughts?**


	4. Monkey Island

**Thank you so much for the reviews! I really appreciate them. I'm glad you're finding Stacey's backstory intriguing, you guys have no idea what things I've got planned. ;)**

 **In response to Janine's review: fair enough! If that's your opinion, that's totally fine, but just so it's clear... I'm in no way trying to replace Kate's character. In fact, I have a lot of things planned for her in this story, so she's not going to cease to exist. Yes, my OC was added into the sewing scene (I don't know if that's what made you think I was replacing Kate), but Kate still showed up and patched Jack up like in the original episode. In this chapter, I've added original content with my OC too. From what I can tell, you only read up to Chapter 2, which is a shame, so I can understand why you got the impression I was stealing Kate's spotlight. I've not written many chapters yet, so I hope that you give my fic at least one more go.**

* * *

After I had finished eating, I didn't necessarily feel like joining the other survivors around a cosy, warm fire. To me, it just didn't seem right, trying to pretend the situation was under control when anybody had yet to show up. A few people had begun wrapping themselves around thin blankets, trying to get some sleep around the fire, so I figured I'd do the same. I scavenged through some of the debris in hopes of finding another blanket and then ripped apart a pillow or two from a broken-off seat lying around the sand. I dragged my now exhausted body to a more quiet part of the beach and tried my best to doze off.

* * *

 _"Okay, we can talk now. Speak to me," Mr Fernandez urged, closing the restaurant's back door behind him. It was like I didn't even need to open my mouth and explain myself; he knew straight away it had something to do with Dan, mostly because this wasn't the first time I'd confided with Mr Fernandez about my boyfriend. Awhile back, I'd taken note on his strange long-night outings, secretive phone calls and volatile temper. It wasn't that I didn't trust Dan, but I sensed deep within me that something terrible was happening. No matter how much I begged Dan to be straight with me, he never sussed up. He just blamed it on 'stress'._

 _And my gut feeling was right all along, considering I came home last night to a completely empty apartment and a practicaly suicidal sounding note._

 _"What did he do?! Stripped you of what?" my boss continued urging._

 _Gritting my teeth, I said, "He took everything. All his belongings. And my money. All the money that I'd saved to help my brother get out of debt. All of it! I have nothing! All he did was leave some stupid note, like I'm supposed to forgive him."_

 _Mr Fernandez's demeanor changed at the mention of the note. He went from leaning against the concrete wall to standing up straight, staring directly into my eyes. "He left you a note?" my boss questioned, his brows knitted together tightly._

 _I realized that Dan had specifically mentioned not to talk about the note to anyone. But in that moment, I couldn't care less about what he wanted or didn't want - the bastard had tricked me, conned me into thinking he was actually in love with me. I felt like a fool standing before a wild crowd in a circus, people laughing hysterically and pointing at the naive idiot I was. No matter where I looked, there was no door, no form of escape, because I was forever going to be trapped with nothing but my shame to keep me company._

 _"Don't you worry, Stacey, fools like him never wander too far," my boss stated in a rather grim tone, throwing the door open and wandering back into the crowded, busy kitchen. Mr Fernandez always sympathized with his employees and ex-employees, but I had to admit, I'd never seen him as disgruntled like that before over anybody else's problems._

* * *

A head-splitting booming echoed from the jungle, startling me awake. I sat up, noticing everybody on the beach looking up at the ocean of palm trees and evergreen in the distance, where the sound seemed to be coming from. I wandered towards the cluster of people staring in awe at the tree canopies, only for these to come mysteriously crashing down to the ground.

"Did anybody see that?" the pregnant woman, Claire, pondered, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before us.

Hurley, in a state of disbelief, muttered, "Yeah."

"Oh, great. As if being trapped on an island wasn't enough, now there's trees falling," I seethed.

"Terrific," Charlie added sarcastically.

It's safe to say that no one slept peacefully that night. And even through the morning, people still had last night's mysterious events on their mind.

Hurley had woken me up by accident, startling me too in the process and giving me quite a fright; because of all the annoyingly incessant mosquitos and insects that swarmed the island, I'd thrown my blanket over my head, which managed to keep most of the critters out. However, Hurley assumed the strange bulge underneath the blanket was a dead body, so as he peeled away the thin cotton layer from me, he screamed, not expecting to see me alive, and I screamed just as loud, thinking he was _whatever was in the jungle last night_.

"Jesus Christ!" Hurley practically jumped ten metres in the air. "Dude, for a moment there I thought you were... Ya know, dead."

"Hurley! Do I look dead to you?" I jolted up to my feet, giving the stretch of a beach a quick scan and noticing a small bunch of people huddled together, clearly discussing something.

"No, not really," Hurley said, looking rather embarassed. "Sorry about that."

I sighed. I hadn't yet spoken to many of the other survivors on the island, but Hurley was the one I'd been speaking to most and one of a few who seemed genuinely friendly. His apology sounded sincere enough for me, and so I said, "It's fine. Right now, though, I'm curious to know what _they_ over there are talking about." I gestured towards the huddled group.

"Take a guess," Hurley said as we began approaching them.

"It didn't sound like an animal. Not exactly, I mean," I heard the guy named Michael say.

"Stacey," the African-American woman from the flight - Rose - greeted with a gentle smile. I smiled back, realizing everybody's eyes were now on me and Hurley, the new-comers. Rose then turned back to Michael. "That sound that it made, I keep thinking that there was something really familiar about it."

"Really? Where are you from?" Shannon asked.

"The Bronx."

"Might be monkeys. It's monkeys, right?" Charlie pondered, looking for some sort of approval as his gaze shifted from face to face.

"Sure it's monkeys. It's Monkey Island," Sawyer quipped, clearly attempting to ridicule the poor guy.

"No, Charlie, it's not monkeys. Monkeys aren't that _strong_ ," I told Charlie what Sawyer was basically trying to say, without the idiocy and sarcasm. Sawyer shot an angry look my way as I glowered at him. I had a feeling me and the redneck weren't going to get along well.

"Technically, you know, we don't even know if we're on an island," Hurley added.

"We're on an Island," Sayid, the dark-skinned guy with thick, black curls, asserted confidently.

My gaze flickered towards Kate a few feet away from us, who had ran up to Jack and began questioning him about something. They seemed like they were ready to go somewhere, but to where, I wasn't sure. I hadn't spoken to Jack at all since last night and from what I could tell, Kate didn't seem to remember me, although our previous encounter many years ago didn't last long or have a particularly happy ending. And that was beginning to bother me immensely. I figured one of these days I _had_ to bring the subject up, but I just didn't know how.


	5. Idiot

**Thanks for the reviews and for sharing your opinions about the Jack and Kate situation. I went back to do some editing and I decided to mention the 'count to five' story into Chapter 3, towards the end, since I'm clearly outnumbered here. :) Also, one reviewer suggested I pair Stacey with Sawyer and Jack with Kate. Would you guys like to see that? Or would you guys like to see some sort of triangle going on? I'm still not sure and I'd love to hear what people think of these possible - and may I add interesting - pairings.**

* * *

The group continued to fervently discuss the 'monster' that had effortlessly made palm trees fall one after the other. Someone had also finally mentioned the decaying cadavers that were still inside the plane wreckage. But I was eager to find out why Jack and Kate seemed to be preparing themselves for a trek.

Before I went to ask Jack what he and Kate were planning on doing, they'd approached us instead and the doctor informed everyone that they'd be searching for the cockpit and a transceiver, although deep down I thought it wasn't particularly a good idea. Trying to find the cockpit, which compared to the magnitude of this island was ridiculously small, seemed hopeless. However, I didn't dare say a word about it, considering everybody else seemed pleased at Jack and Kate's heroic actions, many even volunteering to contribute. Well, everybody excluding me and Sawyer by the looks of it, the only true pessimists around here I guess. Well, maybe we did have something in common.

"You're going to need to keep an eye on the wounded. If the guy in the suit wakes up, try to keep him calm, but don't let him remove that piece of shrapnel. You understand?" Jack told me. I noticed his gaze automatically flickered to the now dried up wound on my forehead, probably to check if it was okay.

"Of course." I nodded. "Good luck. Both of you." For the first time, I glanced at Kate for longer than three seconds and gave her a shaky smile (and a hopefully convincing one). Still, she showed no sign of remembering me. Or she was just very good at pretending. With that thought in my mind, I ambled through the group of people and headed to the little makeshift tent where they were keeping the injured marshall. Jack had been tending to him, but it was apparent the situation was very bad.

When I got to the suited guy, he was pretty much lying down, completely motionless, his sweaty skin sprinkled with red and purple lesions. It wasn't a pretty sight, and it was even worse to look at him knowing there was a piece of shrapnel sticking out of him. He seemed to be breathing, albeit it was shallow and uneven. I sat myself down on a ripped out plane seat and just stared at him.

* * *

 _"Twenty thousand," Mr Fernandez repeated. I'd heard very clearly. Mr Fernandez was willing to pay me twenty-thousand for a trip to Australia to tie up some 'loose ends' concerning his business. Noticing my hesitation, he added, "Look, I'm trying to help you, my dear. Your excuse of an ex-boyfriend took all your money and I wanted to give you a raise to help you out, but you know the others were going to complain. It's not everyday I'm willing to pay a dedicated employee like you twenty-thousand for something I could do myself. But business here at the restaurants has been booming and I can't go. So what do you say, Stacey?"_

 _I was shocked. It was true that I needed the money desperately. When I'd finally admitted to the truth and told Brady what'd happened, he almost broke out into tears in front of me, and that sort of thing never happened. I'd given him hope, I'd promised I'd help him, but instead I'd trusted an outsider with my money and it was all gone. With Brady's money alone, there was no way we'd pay the debt we had. He and I were also far too proud to ask for our parent's help, so my boss' offer was tantalizingly good, almost too good._

 _"Okay... Say I accept the money. What exactly am I going to do in Australia? And what am I supposed to tell Brady?" I asked, but Mr Fernandez gestured for me to keep my voice down. "What kind of business do you have in Australia when you've got a restaurant in New York?"_

 _He sighed, twitching his moustache. "I can't tell you here. Let's go to the back."_

 _I followed Mr Fernandez closely to the back of the restaurant, desperate to know these 'secrets' of his he'd never disclosed. As a matter of fact, I didn't actually know as much about him as I'd initially though, which was odd. "Listen closely to me: for twenty thousand, okay, twenty thousand... I want you to go to Australia and meet up with an... ex-friend of mine, Ray Mullen. Talk to him about real business."_

 _"Real business?"_

 _"You know, teach him a lesson or two," he grinned mischieviously, which truthfully had me almost shaking. "Just kidding, kid. But I'll speak to you in more detail when you get there." Then, Mr Fernandez dragged out a plane ticket, casually stuffed it into my apron pocket and wandered back to the kitchen as if he'd knew I was going to accept it._

 _And he was right. I didn't care about anything else. All I cared was for the twenty thousand and my brother._

* * *

A loud verbal discussion broke me out of my haze. The marshall was still breathing and seemed fine - as fine as he could ever be right now - but everything outside the tent was not. When I stepped out onto the beach, I came across Sayid and Sawyer spitting out rude remarks at one another. Nobody arrived yet to diffuse the situation, so clearly it had to be me.

Sighing in frustration, I jogged towards them. "Hey. Hey! What the heck is going on here?" I snarled at the both. Sawyer was already redder than a tomato and Sayid was positioned in a flight-or-fight stance, and by the way his fists were balled together tightly, I'd take a guess and say he _really_ wanted to fight. Neither spoke up, however, they just silently observed each other with disgust. "Now the monster's bitten your tongues?"

Sawyer slowly turned his head to the side to face me. "Oh giddy, Mary Magdalene's here to save the day." The annoyingly frustrating redneck licked his dry lips and once again turned to face Sayid. "I was pointin' out the obvious here. Mr Al-Qaeda over there brought the plane down."

Sayid angrily lunged towards him, but I managed to stop him before he could throw a punch. "Not only are you an idiot, but you're also a xenophobe! Why am I not so surprised, coming from you?" I growled at Sawyer.

Sawyer's sour expression changed when his lips curved up into an impudent and unfortunately eye-catching smile. "Gee, I guess it's 'cause you know me so well, sweetpea."

This time though, it wasn't Sayid lunging himself at Sawyer, it was me. He'd tried to hold me back, surprisingly, but I'd managed to get to Sawyer. In one quick movement, my hand connected with his cheek and I slapped him.

Sawyer seemed strangely... Surprised. He gently caressed his cheek as he glowered down at me. "Was that supposed to make me change my mind or what? He's a darn terrorist."

"I've had enough of you, redneck!" Sayid threw himself onto him, both attempting to throw punches at one another. I, however, didn't stop them this time. Sawyer got what was coming for him. In no time, a group had formed to witness the fight, but everyone's attention eventually averted to Jack, who was now running towards the scene.

* * *

 **Apologies if you stumble upon some spelling mistakes. I wanted to upload before I went to bed.**


	6. Author's Note

Hello, everyone! It's been awhile (definitely well over a year...). So sorry for that, but I'm back! I just recently started rewatching _Lost_ and remembered I had this Fanfiction sitting on here and felt the urge to start writing again. Since it's been so long, I want to go back and edit previous chapters before I go on, as some of my ideas for the story have changed since then and because I want to do some general edits on the writing (spotted a few mistakes here and there). Once again, I apologize for the long wait but I'd like to thank everyone who left a review during my hiatus (Stacey also says thank you).

-Maddie


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